Drafted and Shafted
There were things which I wrote halfway and abandoned some time ago for one reason or another. Sometimes, I'm just not motivated enough to continue something I started (a familiar refrain alas). At other times, I don't structure my thoughts coherently enough to deliver something worth reading. I also sometimes fear that what I was writing might affect some friendships in certain adverse ways.
Here's one of those posts I started writing and never finished. It's been in the blogger draft folder since October:
The Night of a Thousand Fucks (Only the Verbal Kind though)
It was not a night to remember. I recalled sitting on a bench, and the next memory was 8 hours later waking up in a housemate's bed without any idea how I got there.
Well, it wasn't just about me not remembering - I was a big nuisance and I sure did not leave any fond memories for the folks I troubled that night.
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Piecing together the events of that night took a while - my fellow South-East Asian saw most of the action, and the blow-by-blow account blew me away. (he took some literal blows as well, poor sod)
First off, I was already drunk by the time he found me.
And then, he fed me more of the vile stuff.
The vile stuff makes one feel vile. But prior to feeling vile, I became the quintessential angry drunk, and that's when the litany of 'fucks' started.
I see someone familiar, and the first issuance from my mouth was 'F*** you'. A friend started keeping count, and from the time I started the f-ing rant till I dropped dead on the living room floor, it was a ceaseless F-fest.
Yup. Certifiably an angry drunk.
Oh yes, there was the hurling bit as well, and that's when it did not become that fun for my fellow South-East Asian friend. (It is always fun up to the point people get sick) Hurled on his jacket, his car, his shirt. Even violently tore up the hurl bag wrapped around my mouth. Punched and abused him as well.
The amount of verbal and physical abuse they had to endure. Ouch...
So there was sick in his car, and on our clothes. The guys dragged me home, pulled some sheets over the small living room area, and left me curled up on the floor.
I don't know how I ended up in my housemate's bed - and telling him had been the worst thing I had to do today.
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Yes I was drunk sometime in October. And drunk in only the kind of way one should be drunk: irresponsibly unconsciously dead drunk.
Another one I tried to write a few days ago didn't get anywhere beyond two points:
Question and Answer / Echo and Bounce
1. Why is it that conversations necessarily follow the Q&A format? I ask you a question, you say something in response, and we both think we are having a conversation. It seems otherwise impossible to elicit information from anyone else: it's all about getting a response.
2. A 'Plop' is an utterance that is greeted with silence. Actually, it is more like an unacknowledged comment. It is a painful thing being a plopper: you never know if it is because what you just said is the single most stupid comment in a conversation.
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Like the above painfully lousy drafts that never got published, some things are really better left unsaid. In the 'Better Left Unsaid' (BLU) bin, I've shafted a whole bunch of ideas which will probably never see the light of day.
For instance, I'd always wanted to write a travel blog that would go by the ostentatious name of 'Heart of Asia' (oddly enough, inspired by a particular techno chinois song). Unfortunately for me, I never did travel all that much - not during the time when I was earning a regular salary, and not even now when I'm a student. Not in Asia at least.
Then, there was the other idea about writing political trish-trash, something ala sammyboy forum clap-trap (like there isn't enough coffee shop political commentary already). I feared being flamed and ridiculed for what I think would most likely be naive commentary: better leave it for people without the common sense to shut up then.
The BLU bin is also filled with the (true) thoughts I have of the friends around me, and they are seldom very flattering. I generally don't see people optimistically: this means that I usually have the view that people around me possess more negative traits than positive ones. For instance, a friend of mine who is effusive and good natured to most other people; in my mind, he will be typified as being irritating, obsessed with unnecessary information, and choose inappropriate topics for conversations (think of that annoying kid who talks about the extent of his knowledge of various species of cockroaches while his parents are gagging over dinner).
I just can't see the positives in most people. What I really think about them thus are better left unsaid.
Like I said before, I'm too risk-averse.
